by Eve Langlais
“Arms up.”
Disobeying wasn’t an option.
He raised his hands over his head, knowing the drill.
Magic pulled at the metal cuffs on his wrists, reeling them even higher overhead until he stood on tiptoe. The chain only jangled lightly as it clipped onto the eyelet hooks.
The position stretched his body tautly. Exposed him. Then again, he’d long ago lost anything to hide.
He stared straight ahead, and not just because he knew better than to turn. He didn’t want to see. Perhaps if he pretended the suzerain didn’t exist, then he could go back to his cell and that distracting temptation across from him.
The soft whisper of fabric on the stone floor let him know without peeking that she approached. His body held itself taut, a bowstring pulled tightly, ready to twang with release.
“There’s my pet.”
He didn’t reply.
“I hear you’ve made friends with the new prisoner.”
I have no friends.
Or family.
Probably because he’d screwed them all over.
“I wouldn’t get too attached to her.” The lilting voice had a husky undertone to it. “I have plans for her.”
“She’s a Silvergrace. Her disappearance won’t go unnoticed.”
“I should hope not. I am hoping for some pure panic on their parts as they run around like dragons with their tails cut off.”
“Why?”
“Because it amuses me.”
“What’s the point of all this?” For the first time in a while, he found himself questioning. Wondering at the suzerain’s purpose. She had power. Why these stupid games?
“Are you looking for a reason why I hate the dragons? Why I hate all of those you call cryptozoids? Do I need one?”
“Uh, yeah.” He’d had one. He’d been jealous of his full-blooded Golden brother, so jealous that he wanted to take his place.
“If you knew my story, you’d understand why I do this. Why I taunt and tease. After all, where’s the fun in killing? Once they’re all dead, then who will amuse me?”
“You sent humans after the Silver Sept.” He’d been there for that short, bloody battle.
“Expendable creatures. Not as fun or valuable as dragons. The mighty drakes, rulers of the skies and seas. Once also keepers of magic until one of them betrayed them all.”
“How do you know all this?” Even Anastasia, as the Golden priestess, only had chunks of their past. Yet the suzerain spoke as if…as if she’d lived through it.
Impossible.
Is it? There were many things about this woman that made no sense.
Such as her capture and torture of him.
She took something of him each time they met. Not his seed, though. She never touched him.
Not once.
Good thing. His dick might never come out of hiding again.
But he wondered at times if what she did was worse.
She swayed closer, the tingle of her magic rippling over his skin. He fought not to flinch as she crept closer and spoke. “I am the keeper of the lore. The last bastion of true magic. The only one left of those locked away. As if they could keep us prisoner forever.”
“Us?” This was the first time she’d alluded to someone else.
“A misnomer. And you are awfully inquisitive today. A good thing I find myself in a mellow mood. But don’t test it.”
Sharp pain jabbed at his skull, and he writhed, jaw open wide in a rictus, the scream caught in his lungs.
As quickly as it had begun, the pain ended, and he sagged in his bonds, letting the chain hold his weight.
It never got any easier.
“On to your purpose. Have you replenished enough to give me what I need?”
“Fuck you.”
The slap cracked loudly across the skin of his cheek. It didn’t really hurt, and didn’t even move his head. Having suffered worse, it proved easy to stare straight ahead.
“Dragons. Always so stubborn. You continue to hurt yourself when it would be so much easier to give in.”
Giving in would hurt less. When he stood still, he truly got to view the horror of watching his soul being sucked from his body. “I’ll never give in.” The words came out with a bit of force.
“Someone is a little feisty today.” The laughter emerged low and chilling. “Show a little respect. We both know I could send you to your knees, begging me to kill you, with but a twitch of my hand.”
“Why not just kill me?” He didn’t want to feed this creature, and yet, he wasn’t given a choice. Even now, his tattered soul had barely recovered from the last leeching.
The figure in the dark cloak moved in front of him, the wispy curls of the fabric dancing in an invisible breeze. “Kill you? But we’re not done. However, you aren’t quite ripe for the picking. We’ll have to let you rest up a little longer. Which is why we picked up a spare.”
“Spare what?”
“Your new dungeon companion, of course. A Silver dragon. So much tastier than those Reds I played with.”
The thought of Deka suffering at the suzerain’s hands roused an anger in Samael he’d thought doused. “Don’t you dare hurt her.”
“Or else what?” The cloak swirled against his skin, causing him to shiver as his skin contracted from the icy touch. The suzerain moved around him. “Will you promise to obey me and not fight if I leave her alone?”
Obey this foul creature to save a stranger?
Who is she but a girl who thinks you’re more special than you are?
You are nothing.
Nothing but a traitor to my own kind.
Yet he could redeem himself. It would start with one act. One moment of bravery and heroism.
He looked at the cloaked figure, saw within the deep cowl the red, glowing eyes. The alien gaze that stirred something dark and frightening within.
The world will burn if she gets what she wants. Lovely, dancing flames. And screams. So many screams.
Surely, he didn’t want that.
Give in, it’s easier.
But on this, he wouldn’t listen to the voice.
He dropped his head. “I don’t care what you do to the woman. She means nothing.” She only served as a reminder of the things he could no longer have.
“You heard the man. Take him back to his cell,” the suzerain ordered. “And fetch me the girl.”
A voice inside him, not the one that advocated he roll over and bare his belly, screamed, Don’t let her do this. You can save her. You can do it.
No, I can’t.
In this dark place, he didn’t hold the title of king. He could barely call himself a man.
He was nothing but a coward.
Chapter Six
“What do you mean, she’s in the bathroom again?” Aunt Xylia—who did not find it funny at all when her nieces giggled and called her Xylophone—asked as she called for the third time that day.
“She’s got the runs. Bad. Must have been a bad baguette.” Babette cringed even as the words came out of her mouth.
“Put her on the phone, right this instant.”
“But—” Babette tried to think of another excuse to stall. Auntie saw right through it.
“Now!” When Aunt Xylia used that tone, you didn’t argue, unless you had your affairs in order. Babette wondered if the paper napkin she’d written on when she turned eighteen counted.
I, Babette Silvergrace, of questionably sound mind, do hereby leave my hoard of marbles and organic seeds—totally untouched by GMOs—to my favorite cousin, Deka. But only if she avenges my death.
To which Deka, overwhelmed, had solemnly sworn with her hand over her heart to destroy whatever killed Babette. If it were a car crash, she’d have the car crushed and melted. Cancer? She’d damned well find a cure.
Because that was what best friends did! BFFs covered for each other unless Aunt Xylia was breathing through the phone, menacing Babette with bodily harm—which, given her access to potions, could
get pretty hairy—then a girl spilled the beans.
“I don’t know where she is right now.”
“Is she with a man?” Auntie sounded cautiously hopeful.
“Kind of.” At least, that was the plan. If Deka got caught by the right sort, then she was with Samael.
“Well, if she’s off fornicating, then I guess that’s all right. She did make them sign the contract first, didn’t she?” Aunt Xylia’s asked.
“Um, no, probably not. But don’t worry, he’s not human.”
“Really?” Auntie’s tone perked up. “Good for her. About time she forgot about that misfit D’Ore boy.”
“Uh-huh.” Babette hummed an agreement, hoping to hide the lie.
Auntie zeroed in on it. “Tell me she’s not with Samael.”
“Well, um, see, that is, I don’t know for sure if she is or not.”
“Where is she?”
A direct question. How to dodge it? “I don’t know.”
“Don’t you dare cover for her. Tell me where my daughter is.”
“I can’t because I haven’t heard from her since last night.” The last text at one a.m. local time said simply, Grabbed some free condoms to do water balloons. See you in a few.
Deka always knew how to have fun, and a balcony attached to their room had so many possibilities.
Except Deka never came back to their room. And while Babette wouldn’t admit it aloud, she was kind of glad Auntie had called, freaking out.
Auntie’s voice emerged low and clipped. “You mean to tell me your cousin went missing last night. Her phone is untraceable, and you’re only thinking to tell me now?”
“I would have waited longer, but you kind of pushed the issue.” Deka would be pissed Babette hadn’t covered for long enough.
“I knew it was a bad idea to send you overseas. I’ll be on the next plane.”
“We don’t know that she’s in trouble.”
The silence proved palpable. Mostly because of the inanity of her statement.
Babette sighed. “Let me know when your flight comes in. I’ll meet you.”
She hung up and groaned. A slender hand trailed over her bare arm, and a husky voice whispered, “How long before you have to meet your aunt?”
“Long enough to make you feel like a woman,” she said with a grin before diving on her new lover.
Imagine the luck of running into Suzanne in the hall their first week here on her way to get ice. Now, if only the woman didn’t have to keep running off to take care of business. Apparently, she was caring for some animals that required close supervision.
Speaking of which. “While I’d love to stay, I have to go.” The lithe body rose from the bed, Suzanne’s shape pure perfection. Her skin, mahogany excellence. Her hair curly to the extreme.
And while the occasional red spark in her brown-eyed depths seemed cause for concern, one kiss from those ruby lips and Babette forgot everything. Even the fact that she was worried about Deka missing.
I’m sure Deka’s fine.
Chapter Seven
Having a fine time. Not.
Of Samael, she’d yet to see anything since he’d left. Found him and lost him.
In the meantime, Deka was so bored. Those simple words were enough back home to get her tossed out of the mansion and told to run off some energy.
I need to do something, or I am gonna snap.
Thankfully, Jabba’s ugly twin brother, who bore a wisp of hair on top of his head but no teeth, came to fetch her.
Jabba Two jangled the cuffs in front of the bars and lisped, “Give me your hands.”
“And if I don’t?” she asked, tucking them behind her back.
“Then I use this.” He held up a bag. Not a very interesting bag.
“Is this like a bean bag toss game? Are you going to lob it at me and knock me out?”
“The powder inside will put you to sleep. I’d like that.” He leered and licked his blubbery lips.
While not her type, Jabba Two at least recognized her hotness; he just didn’t have permission to touch it.
Her nose tilted. “There are laws against that kind of thing.”
“Human laws don’t apply here.”
“My boyfriend is the jealous type. He’ll totally kick your ass if you touch me.” And she knew this because she would totally rip the eyes out of any woman’s head that dared the same. Then she’d tear off their arms and whack them. Or should she leave the eyes intact so they could see their own fists coming in for a slap?
The choices.
“Ahem. Your hands.”
How rude, interrupting her mental replay of the best way to avenge herself if jealous. “What if I don’t want to go visit your boss? Did it occur to you that I might be busy? Tell her to make an appointment.”
The big Jabba brother stared at her, slack-jawed. Put in his place for his impertinent behavior.
“You have to obey,” he exclaimed.
“Or what? I’m already enjoying the hospitality of your dungeon cell. You’ve ruined my hair. And since you took my purse, I can’t even fix my makeup.”
“The suzerain will flail you for your disobedience.”
“The suzerain needs to learn that the world doesn’t revolve around her. And on the topic of your boss, who is she?”
“Not someone to be trifled with.”
“Neither am I.”
“Says the woman in a cage.”
Hold on a second, did this doofus seriously just disparage her? “I am here by choice.”
“Sure, you are. You can’t get out.”
“I could so, if I wanted to.”
The smirk on his face claimed otherwise.
She sighed and stuck her hands through the bars.
“That’s a good girl. Maybe she won’t punish you too hard.” Jabba clipped the manacles around her wrists, and she yanked them back through then held an impatient foot still as he turned the key in the three sets of locks.
The door opened, and she stepped out before declaring, “I told you I could get out of this cage.”
He blinked. Probably in awe of her escape skills.
“But you’re my prisoner.” He pointed to the handcuffs.
She shook them and smiled. “Am I, Jabba Two? Or am I just letting you think I am?”
Poor man couldn’t follow her elegant logic. The line of drool probably a sign his brain was melting from her sheer greatness.
“Take me to your leader,” she declared with a toss of her head.
“Smirk while you can,” grumbled her second jailor. “You’ll be sobbing by the time she’s done with you.”
“You don’t know me very well if you think I’d cry.” Her lips curled into a smile that Babette had declared positively demonic. “Making people cry, though…” She bared some teeth. “I’m very good at that.”
The corpulent male, his size massive, was covered in a loose robe, the brown fabric coarse, and she wasn’t quite sure he walked on the floor so much as he slithered.
There was something oddly fascinating and, at the same time, horrifying about his appearance. Because there is something familiar about him.
Yet also perverted and grotesque. He made her skin crawl and her psychotic side—the one her mother told her to never bring out to play—twitch in agitation.
Not good. Whenever she let that twitch take over, listened to that sibilant whisper—Let me out!—it always led to mayhem.
Good times.
Forbidden times, she reminded herself.
Expensive, call-the-lawyers kinds of times.
Still…
If it were an emergency, surely mother would understand.
Mother maybe, Aunt Zahra? Tight-fisted boss lady had this thing about paying damages and the family reputation. She might actually cut Deka off one day, which was the only reason Deka didn’t unleash and kill Jabba Two.
More surprising than her restraint, though, was the fact that his stench didn’t make all her systems croak.
App
arently, he didn’t indulge in bathing like she and Samael were forced to.
Talk about being at a disadvantage. She peeked down at her dress and grimaced. How to improve upon the damp fabric and her scraggly hair?
She quickly improvised, asking questions as she ripped at her dress and tore off strips.
“How long have you been working for Suzie?” Deka asked.
“Who? I work for the suzerain and no one else.”
“Duh. I got that. For how long, though?” Really, did nobody understand things nowadays?
They’re doing it on purpose to be stupid, Mother. They really could use a slap. Can I give them one? Please.
A lack of an actual reply probably meant no.
Or is that yes… The walls could use some color.
“I’ve been with the suzerain since before the Roman Empire fell.”
“You’re like ancient,” she replied with a wrinkle of her nose. Her hands deftly adjusted her new midriff-baring top, tethered between her cleavage with a strip of cloth to give it a halter-top appearance. “Did you always look like one of those things cook picks out of our garden and then cooks in garlic butter?” Those plump snails also looked rather ugly when popped from their shells but tasted delicious once roasted.
Hmm. She eyeballed him.
Jabba Two didn’t notice. It was almost offensive.
“I didn’t always look like this.” The tone had a definite sadness to it. “But appearances don’t matter. I lived while others didn’t.”
“Others? You mean there were more like you?” And what exactly did that mean? Jabba Two and his brother certainly weren’t like anything she’d ever seen before.
Never even heard of, and her mother had taught her quite a bit about the world that existed beneath the human one.
“The exiled were few and yet many when forced to live apart. Over time, not all survived, and without outsiders to swell our ranks, our numbers dwindled.”
She finished tugging at her skirt and eyed him with curiosity. “Didn’t you have babies?” The first thing any species should do if faced with extinction was procreate. The dragons survived the human culling only because of strict breeding protocols.
They had to be careful because, without a Golden king to give them a helping nudge, dragons could only make dragons with each other. Humans, the most common other mate, produced sterile wyverns.